While dancing if a boy’s hand slid too low along my back, the chaperone gave a stern warning. If it happened a second time, the warning came with a rap on the knuckles from a ruler which appeared as if by magic in the chaperones hand. There was never a third attempt.
Outside of school was no better. Dad was an upstanding member of the community. The only reason he was not the mayor or the governor was because he did not want the job. With about seven thousand people grabbing on to his every word at church, and at least forty times that watching on television throughout America, his power was unrivaled. He never spoke directly on the topic to any of his followers, but there was no doubt among them if they had a son that dated one of his daughters and anything untoward happened, they would be ruined both financially and socially. A single word from him would drive customers and friends away as if they had the plague. For that reason, no family allowed any son to ask us out.
Once we talked to Dad about this. He explained he was looking out for our best interests. The day would come when the perfect man would show up that would live with us both in this world and in the one to come. Further discussion revealed men that graduated with doctorates from seminary school would be assistant preachers to him. After a few years if he believed they were sincere God fearing men, he would allow them to date and eventually marry us. According to his time schedule, we were looking to be in our late twenties before we would one, get married, and two, lose our virginity.
This is where the hell comes in. I dream of having sex. I want to feel a man wrap his arms around me and thrust his huge prick into me. I have fantasies of sucking a guy off. I have imagined having three different men at the same time ramming their dicks into each of my holes. If I follow Dad’s plan, none of those things will ever happen. I will end up a sexually starved matron of a family, spreading my legs two or maybe three times a month so my husband can get his jollies. I will be my mother. That I will not allow to happen.
It would be five weeks before we began our first semester at college. Again a private college with high ‘moral’ standards. Until that time we would stay at home. Dad proudly proclaimed we were growing up and turning into fine, upstanding ladies. I no longer wanted to be an upstanding lady, but instead a lady that got fucked on a regular basis. God must have known my wishes, for an opportunity to get off the old maid destiny presented itself.
Dad called us into his study a little before seven o’clock on a Monday morning. “Jessy,” he said, calling Mom by name. “Angelica, Angelina,” he added completing the roll call. “There is a great opportunity given to us. It is truly a blessing from the Most High God. One of the biggest television stations in Denver has shown an interest in carrying my ministry. They are considering sending it to Europe. If this should happen, my television audience will at least double and maybe even triple. I am leaving today and will not return until Saturday night. I will be back in time to give my sermon to the church on Sunday. I wish you could go with me, but this is strictly business and I do not like the idea of you around a city that openly allows marijuana. An ungodly act that will surely soon bring down Heaven’s wrath. Perhaps that is why He is opening this door, so they might see the evil of their ways and repent.”